Page 31 of Make Mine a Marquess

The mother’s brow smoothed. “Miss Smith? I don’t know where she lives, but ye can find her in the Cock and Bull.”

“The tavern?”

“She works there, she does.”

Phoebe’s gaze darted to the red brick tavern. The door opened and a man dressed in a coarse corduroy jacket and well-worn boots stumbled out. He blinked from the light of the day, then walked unsteadily down the street.

Goodness. It’s far too early to be foxed.

“Thank you.” Phoebe’s voice sounded weak to her own ears. The toddler started to fuss, and the mother soothed him as she carried him away.

Phoebe stood still, eyeing the dark wooden door of the tavern. Ladies didn’t enter taverns. Certainly, not unchaperoned ones.

Her father would disapprove. Her mother would lecture her for the rest of the house party. What would Lord Willard say?

Phoebe’s spine straightened. She wasn’t the baron’s wife. Not yet. She was an independent woman who could make up her own mind. If she wanted to help the local charity, then she would walk into the tavern and inquire as to Sarah Smith’s whereabouts. Now that she thought more about it, it made sense. A working woman in a local tavern would be in a good position to help unwed mothers. She would know where to find them and they would know where to find her.

Phoebe marched down the street, and without hesitation, yanked open the door to the Cock and Bull and swept inside.

The smell of gin and smoke made her wrinkle her nose. Men sat at tables with tankards of ale or cups of cheap gin. A buxom red-haired barmaid carrying a tray heavily loaded with tankards wove between the tables delivering ale. Phoebe blinked, her eyes adjusting to the darkness of the tavern and the fog of smoke that curled to the rafters.

She grew highly conscious of two things: the attention of the men, and the sudden silence as they gaped. Her dress was simple in design, but well made. Anne had fashioned her blond hair in a loose bun at the nape of her neck and wisps of curls that framed her face. She knew she stood out, and her fingers twisted the strings of her reticule.

She refused to turn tail and sprint back outside. She was here and she had a purpose. Raising her chin, she strode to the barkeep behind the bar. “I’m looking for Sarah Smith. She’s expecting me.” It was a small lie that she delivered with confidence.

“Is she now?” The man had an unkempt salt-and-pepper beard, deep wrinkles at the corners of his eyes, and bad teeth.

She raised her chin. “Yes.”

“Wait here a moment.” He waved at the barmaid. “Rosy! Tell Mrs. Smith that she ’as a visitor.”

The red-headed barmaid sauntered over, placed her tray on the counter, and propped a hip on a stool. She eyed Phoebe from head to toe, a knowing look in her eyes. “Yer in trouble?”

“Trouble?” Her face reddened as she realized precisely what trouble the barmaid referred to. “No, no. Just looking for Sarah.”

“It’s ’er day off, it is.”

Disappointment settled in Phoebe’s gut. She’d hoped to speak to the woman in person. Nonetheless, she was prepared. She pulled the letter she’d written out of her reticule. “Can you please give this to her? It will explain everything.”

Rosy plucked the letter from her fingers and tucked it into her bodice. Her breasts swallowed the foolscap. “I’ll be sure she gets it.”

Phoebe nodded her thanks.

Rosy picked up her tray and sashayed off to deliver her drinks.

Phoebe’s tense muscles began to relax. She’d made the right decision after all. She trusted Rosy to deliver the letter and, if all went well, she’d hear from Sarah, and she’d lend whatever help she could during her brief stay in Hertfordshire. Who knew? If they developed a good relationship, Phoebe could continue to help from London.

For the first time since walking into the tavern, Phoebe let out a breath of relief. Yes, everything would work out just fine.

A strong hand landed on her shoulder, causing her to nearly jump out of her skin.

“What the devil are you doing here?”

Phoebe whirled at the deep, masculine voice to see the tall, imposing figure of the Marquess of Landon standing behind her.

Chapter Nine

Of all the places Landon would have expected to find Phoebe Dawson, the Cock and Bull Tavern would be last on his list.